


Spent

by yeaka



Category: Kingdom Hearts
Genre: Angst, Ficlet, Hand Jobs, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-08-08
Updated: 2017-08-08
Packaged: 2018-12-12 17:29:27
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,123
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11741817
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/yeaka/pseuds/yeaka
Summary: After their match in the Coliseum, Leon goes a step further.





	Spent

**Author's Note:**

> A/N: Fair warning that I haven’t played FF7/8 and KH in forever, but I was watching an LP the other day and wanted this. Set during the KH1 Hades cup. 
> 
> Disclaimer: I don’t own Kingdom Hearts or Final Fantasy any of their contents, and I’m not making any money off this.

One too many lengthy battles, and they’re finally allowed some rest, though Leon snorts that he hardly needs it and Cloud’s glare says the same. Hades couldn’t care less, by the looks of him. He waves them away, disappearing into nothing as he always does, and the two of them slink back into the waiting room beyond the hall. They avoid the front entrance where the irritating satyr waits and that insufferable Hercules skulks about. Part of Cloud wants to just dive back into a sea of Heartless, but the rest of him begrudgingly follows Leon out of the arena. 

When they’re in the shade of the little locker room, Leon slumps down onto a bench, and Cloud leans back against a wall. His shoulders ache, but that’s nothing new. His bones are sore. His body screams at him—he’s done nothing but _fight_ for days, but he’d do it again if he could. He wants the cup to resume. Anything to keep his mind away. His company just makes it worse. Leon looks up at him, those dark eyes burning into his body, and Cloud finds himself looking away.

He wishes he had a different partner. Not because Leon isn’t _good_ , but because he makes it harder. He’s difficult to look at. He’s difficult to stand beside, panting and sweating. It’s _so hard_ to watch him be knocked down. Even worse when Cloud falls first and Leon tries to stand protectively in front of him, even though Cloud snarls not to. Sometimes he can’t tell if Leon even likes him or not. He wishes Leon would go back to fighting with that perky ninja that gets on Cloud’s nerves just for a reprieve of his own thoughts. 

But Leon’s with him now, and Leon _starting at him_ makes his skin crawl. Makes him hot beneath his clothes. He knows he’s flushed, knows it’s not all from the battle. Leon gets to him that way. Because he looks at Leon too much himself, at the long, slender line of Leon’s legs, the taut stretch of his toned stomach, the broad expanse of his chest, the soft hair that falls about his shoulders and the handsome line of his—

Cloud bitterly cuts himself off. He doesn’t need the distraction. It won’t help him. And he’s not even his own anymore—he doesn’t have himself to give. Hades saw to that. 

Leon breaks the silence first, grunting casually, “You’re hard.”

Stone-stiff and abruptly blushing furiously, Cloud averts his gaze as far as he can. He insists, “I’m not.”

He can practically _hear_ Leon’s smirk. He knows Leon can see it. And he wishes he could make it go down, but Leon’s eyes on him makes it impossible. Thinking about Leon’s grace and ferocity during battle makes it impossible. The way Leon wields his gunblade...

“Does fighting get you off?”

No. _Leon_ fighting does. But of course Cloud won’t admit that, so he stubbornly says nothing. 

He hears a heavy footfall. In his peripherals, he sees Leon rising, leaving the gunblade on the bench, and coming closer. Cloud’s own sword is at his feet. He turns to try and stare Leon down, but it’s too late. 

Leon’s already right in front of him, and the next thing Cloud knows, Leon’s mouth is smashing into his. Leon’s damn _fast_. And he’s strangely soft and wet there, though he pushes fiercely against Cloud’s mouth, until Cloud opens with a growl. He lets Leon’s tongue fill him, and he hates himself for moaning. 

_He doesn’t deserve this pleasure._ It’s all he can think of. But Leon gives him no relief. Leon flattens into him, rocking lithe hips against his own, two gloved hands sliding back into his hair, caressing his jaw. He’s coaxed open and _taken_. Leon kisses him with a bizarre mix of tenderness and feral _possession_. Cloud’s too weak to push Leon away, even though he knows he could. 

He could throw Leon to his ass and beat him senseless, and a part of Cloud rages to do that, because he’d _thought_ Leon was like him, consumed with guilt, blameless but sure—Leon was the one who took the fall for him, even though _Cloud_ should’ve done something; it was _his_ darkness that consumed them all—

Or maybe this is how Leon copes, heedless of who deserves what. Maybe Leon’s finally fallen over the edge, and this is all that’s left.

Leon’s hand drops to Cloud’s belt, bypassing all the rest. Leon pries at it, pulls it open, and Cloud braces his metal hand on Leon’s thick bicep but doesn’t stop it. He lets Leon kiss him hard and thrust a hand into his trousers, slipping under to cup him and squeeze. A horrible shiver wracks Cloud’s spine. He realizes _this_ is how Leon’s guilt will manifest—Leon giving pleasure, not taking. It’s selfish. He should know Cloud deserves even less. When Cloud tries to reach for Leon’s belt, Leon grabs his wrist and pins it against the wall.

And Cloud, _too wretched_ , doesn’t fight it. He lets himself melt into Leon’s touch. He lets Leon’s long fingers wrap around his stiff cock, the cold texture of the glove giving him a subtle rush. Dry and raw, Leon pumps him, jerks him off inside his trousers, and fucks his mouth with tongue the whole time. Cloud wishes it didn’t feel so _wonderful_.

But it does. Leon’s skilled at this, like he is at everything. He knows just when to twist, when to squeeze, when to knead Cloud’s flesh and where to rub. He runs over the leaking head a few times, smearing Cloud’s precum all around him. Leon bites into Cloud’s bottom lip and rolls back Cloud’s foreskin, thumbing the crowning tip. Cloud’s too close too soon.

It’s the _smell_ of Leon that finally does it—the stench of sweat and victory, and the raw musk of _man_ beneath that. Cloud comes with a gritted hiss. Leon pumps him through it, kisses becoming sweeter. Soon there’s no teeth at all, and it lasts: a long, sensuous swipe of tongues that has Cloud shivering and near tears— _he doesn’t deserve Leon._

He should’ve been here alone, rotting in his own anguish, without relief, respite, _any kind of love_. He hates that Leon makes his heart clench, makes him want to just give up and _go home_. 

When Leon finally steps back, dragging his hand from Cloud’s clothes and a trail of spit from Cloud’s mouth, he murmurs, strangely soft, “C’mon. Let’s go wash up.”

Cloud numbly nods. He’s lightly shaking. 

Leon, still hard, slips his hand into Cloud’s, the one he’d held Cloud down by. He tugs Cloud gently to the door, like salvation’s on the other side.


End file.
